Inky feathers flittered, raven hair tangled, and clothes rippled as the wind played with me. Sometimes it was gentle and consoling. Other times, it showed me violence.
I held my ground before the expanse of the sea. Its mysterious and deep waters greeted me and the face of the cliff, sending waves upon its wake.
Up above, my silent listeners remained watching. The full moon presented me with its mild light and crescent smile some days in a month, and the stars that dotted the dark-painted sky flickered and flickered.
All of them beckoned me to leap into freedom as they always would.
In response, I took a step back, a glance batted to the dark woods standing behind me, and I yanked myself off the restraints shackling me.
I dropped along the side of the cliff, wings neatly folded until several meters before the surface of the sea. Wind gathered underneath my wings and successfully caught me from the fall. With a meeting wave of pelagic, I slapped the tip of the hilling wave and glided over its surface.
My wings flattered hard and brought me higher and faster, up to the floating whites. I shot through the clouds, a giggle escaping my lips as I broke their shapes till the very last one I could land my eyes on. I spun in the middle of the air, quickly shaking off the dues that clung onto me.
This was freedom.
This was what I was born to do.
One of the privileges given to me the moment I was born.
Unfortunately, only I could do this at night, in the dark, where no curious eyes, nosy minds, and blabbering mouths could be on standby.
Tonight was just like any other night of getting my freedom in hiding.
Another night of admiring the piece of art that had been made even before I could breathe. The natural scapes and the music they made. Set, molded and laid by the unstoppable time, and maybe—or maybe, by God's plan.
Whoever or whatever made such priceless, untamed, undeniable beauties was and forever be a genius.
Which I aspired to be.
No, not to be immortal.
I wanted to be someone who could bring souls with the notes that tug their strings, to the worlds I painted. Dance to the colorful music of each piece. Listen and see the stories that would be carved onto their very minds and souls. Unforgotten even if time and fate had come to swallow me.
But when could I finally do that for anyone other than my mother? Well, let us be grateful for who was already beside me.
Speaking of Mother, she could be worried about me now since I had been here for a couple of hours already. I left her back home after dinner. It was an unspoken thing that I must fly—I mean, what was the use of wings if you weren't going to fly?
Wings were used for flying! Even those fat chickens fly! Even ostriches—wait, ostriches do not fly! Stupid Cyan, stupid Cyan.
What birds can't fly other than ostriches, though? Gotta Boogle that later.
Another day of thinking random things.
Well, who doesn't think of random things at least once—
I took a sharp turn and avoided an upcoming white bird with an orange beak, and took notice of the pattern of its feathers. My face twisted in annoyance as I flicked my hand, gathering wind to remain hovering over the sea. "Oh, of course, it's you."
The seagull shrieked at me, almost letting go of the packet of chips clipped between its beak.
This little thief.
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Smolder in the Afterglow | Tales of Luminozenko
Fantasía|UNDER EDITING| Do not believe the telltales. Behind the veils of light, something lurks in the shadows. The demons and the vessels they dwell in that never were once washed out, clawing their ways to spread their blight. Then again, I did say to no...